The Burning Taste Of Blackened Air
by MyMagentaPeach
Summary: Filler IAU: Quinn has had enough of it all. Might trigger cutting, please don't read if you might be triggered.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee.

**A/N: **So, I am a die-hard Klainer, but I hate writing out of canon, and my emotions and personal experiences lately make it impossible to write this as canon with Klaine involved, or even remotely believable.

Quinn seems so effed up and confused right now, that she is kind of the perfect fit for this. Santana would until recently have been my choice for this, but my struggle has little to do with being a same-sex lover myself, right now at least, so I chose Quinn.

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><p><strong>The Burning Taste Of Blackened Air<strong>

"Quinn. Wait. What is going on with you?"

"What do you care Noah? You said it yourself, for you this is about Beth not about me. So why would you care if I get to see her, hold her."

Noah thinks he can hear a change in Quinn's voice.

The growing softness which he still believes he detected a moment ago in the last words leaving her mouth, is decidedly gone with Quinn's next sentence, and Noah is left not so sure anymore if he might have just imagined it in the first place.

"Leave me alone," Quinn almost shouts as she turns to the next girls' bathroom and ducks in.

She groans and closes her eyes on the whole of the damn world as she hears the squeak of the door reopening behind her. Even before she meets the boy's eyes in the mirror she knows it is Noah.

"I know you haven't attended a math class in fucking forever, but I assumed you have enough daily practice in English to understand what I just said."

Quinn does not wait for a reply. She tightens the grip on her bag and darts back out of the bathroom, down the corridor, and when Puck reaches the parking lot, her car is already pulling out onto the street.

The tears come quick, too quick, and after mere minutes she has to pull to the side of the road. Turning of the engine Quinn hunches over, leaning on the steering wheel, but something is digging into her side, so she starts the engine back up, and drives until she reaches the edge of a vast field, a little outside of Lima.

It is the place they picked cornflowers for school in her second year, 7 years old, back when she was actually still friends with people she liked.

Puberty had not been Quinn's problem, but she hated the moment when popularity kicked in.

After all, she had not started to change because she wanted to be popular. She just…had started to change, and at first it was coincidence that people liked her better for it.

Gymnastics had been fun. She cannot help but think that it all started going wrong when something, yes, okay, '…not something, I know what made me change change,' Quinn thinks. But after years it is still hard to admit, even if it is to herself alone. And even with no one around to hear it, Quinn still cannot say it out loud.

She will never admit it to others, swears that much to herself not for the first time. Two years ago she had come close to admitting it to Mercedes. Feeling herself growing too close to the other girl she had acted the only way she knew how and pushed Mercedes away. Leaving Mercedes confused and hurt, and angry. But Quinn knows how to deal with people being angry with her. Quinn does not know that other people would think it strange that she is more comfortable with being hated than being loved. The unfamiliarity of love, no matter how much Quinn wishes to be loved makes it uncomfortable in the end. That is where popularity seemes to have lured her in; being feared like that put her at a safe distance from all genuine love. And she pretended to the world to be upset about losing Finn last year, but really, the sense of relief was bigger.

At least she does not try to convince herself anymore that it have not been her father's nagging comments and bitter remarks towards her, the delusional praise he has for her sister, both amplified every time by her mother's silence….

'I never knew silence could be a sound so loud,' Quinn thinks, and lets out a strangled sob as she closes the car door behind herself, and steps closer to the edge of the field, the crop standing high and burning golden in the autumn sun.

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><p><strong>AN**: I know I should spend some time, rewriting, making this a little longer, a bit better, but I am bursting with hurt right now, and I need to get this out, to make room in me for some coherent thought. Knowing someone cares enough to read this, it may sound strange, but it helps me. Thank you for reading, thank you for allowing me to make room to feel something else but that pain abrading away at my insides.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This might trigger you if you have ever been a cutter, so please be aware of that before you read on, and please don't read on if it might cause you to cut again.

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><p>She had not wanted to give up Beth. But growing up in a house with the parents she has….<p>

Quinn does not trust herself right now to not do something stupid with whatever pen or lighter or else she knows are just one dig in her bag or pockets away.

So, without so much as locking the car, she throws the bag down, takes of her leatherjacket, thankful that her skinny jeans have no pockets, because walking out into the field the ears of the crop are not the most comfortable feeling in the world as they scrap along her now bare forearms, her wearing a short-sleeved loose white t-shirt.

She feels the pull in her legs, itching to break into a sprint, to wherever, but with her mind already miles ahead of herself, having broken into a run about twenty minutes ago when she stepped out into the parking lot at McKinley, Quinn knows she is not that aware of her current surroundings, taking a fall is the last thing she needs.

Spotting a small area where part of the crop has been taken down already Quinn feels her steps quicken before they come to an abrupt halt altogether and she allows her legs to finally give way.

It is uncomfortable, the stubble on the ground, but uncomfortable is familiar, and strangely comforting in that familiarity.

The thoughts still racing in her mind, Quinn is thankful that at least her body is still for now.

Minutes pass before she finds the focus to make out one of the thoughts, seconds ago still just a blur like all the others.

"Beth," she whispers to herself before thinking, 'stupid Puck for finding such a perfect name.'

Beth has been her happiest thought and her saddest ever since the day Puck had sat down and sung to the both of them.

And there are all these things Quinn wants to say to Puck, and most of all Beth, which now spill out, in the middle of a field, with Quinn talking to nothing and no one in particular but the ears and the blue sky.

The sky, as she looks up, is empty except for the white marks left by planes, flying to high for their sounds to reach Quinn's ears.

Those marks remind Quinn of all the wounds she has suffered that no one sees.

The wounds have faded and even some of the scars, a lot of them being so old they have just faded to the eye over time.

Her wounds not deep enough to leave scars, only she knows they were ever there.

Having nothing to prove what she has gone through, all that pain cutting deep but not deep enough for anyone to see or care, makes her feel worse.

'People only care about what they can see.'

If only she had more scars, she would have reason to ask for help, proof that she needs it.

"Beth, I never wanted to give you up, but how could I keep you, and drag you into this. How could I ever make you happy, truly be there for you. I do not know how to do that. What I know of happiness is that it hurts just as much as all other pain, maybe more, because the word, others tell you is a promise that something good can come of all of this, that life and trying to be happy can be worth something. I love you too much Beth to poison you with my pain. Being a parent should be about taking the chance to pass on all the love you feel for others and the world. I don't know how to show love, I often don't know how it is that I can feel it for you, when not understanding it at all. I know I love you, I still think my parents love me, but I have never learned how to show love to others, and I will not put you through this. I feel like I confuse love with other things all the time, and I don't want to teach you to be confused. Everyone thinks I was selfish, giving you away, and still am, not wanting to be around you now… when all I want for you is to not get hurt, by anyone, especially me."

Quinn is still sobbing when he stands up and makes her way back to her car.

She picks up her bag and jacket and throws them on the front passenger's seat.

As she climbs into the driver's seat and closes the door behind herself the sadness is all still there, but at least her chest feels a little lighter.

The moment she moves to pull the car key out of her jacket pocket she notices the cornflower in her own right hand. She cannot remember picking it, but it is a comforting feeling to think that that 7 year-old self of hers still seems to be somewhere in there.

"Maybe it is not too late altogether."


End file.
